


Language Barriers

by Sloth_Race



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Cullen Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Language Barrier, Magical Accidents, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-02-13 15:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12987174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sloth_Race/pseuds/Sloth_Race
Summary: When a translation spell goes awry in Skyhold, Ellana Lavellan finds herself unable to speak anything other than Elvish. Without understanding Common, Ellana must rely on awkward scribbles and body language in order to find a way to reverse the spell, communicate with her inner circle, and maybe flirt with her flustered Commander while she's at it.





	1. Lessons learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting for a War Table meeting to start, The Iron Bull attempts to teach an exasperated Ellana Lavellan how to fight with two-handed battle axes. It doesn't go as planned.

"Ah... Bull?"

Ellana Lavellan frowned at the row of ferocious-looking battle axes that leaned against the fence of Skyhold's sparring ring, awaiting her training session. To Ellana's dismay, the gruesome-looking weapons appeared to be freshly sharpened and very, very real.

Bull lingered by the collection of axes, his back turned to her as he evaluated them with thoughtful eyes.

“Bull,” Ellana called again, raising her hands to catch up her dark hair. With fingers flying, she began to braid it back in preparation for, what was most likely, her untimely death as a result of a ridiculous sparring accident. “I’m beginning to second-guess my request to learn how to use battle axes.”

Bull glanced back, clearly surprised.

"Oh yeah?"

“Yeah," she winced, tying off the end of her braid. "I _do_ want to train with you, but I'd really prefer to use the wooden axes for now. The idea of you swinging one of those metal nightmares at my head sounds seriously fucking intimidating.”

Bull grunted in response and moved to pick up the axe nearest to him, unfazed by its huge size.

“Boss, I'm going to be honest, here. Neither you or I have the luxury of time to muddle through Junior's Beginner Training Session with wooden axes. You've got demon crap, red templars, and Venatori raining down on you every which way you look, and we're scheduled to take off to the Hissing Wastes in three days."

Ellana furrowed her brow.

"You'll be _fine_." Bull chuckled, seeing her concern. "Just remember, the next time you get your daggers knocked out of your hand and the only weapon that you can get your hands on is an axe, you’re going to be glad you followed through with this.”

Ellana heaved a sigh. It was true. She was good with her daggers, but in all honesty, she had never been _great_. Enemies had knocked her daggers from her hands on more than one occasion, and each time, she had been forced to scramble for a nearby axe, sword, rock… anything. Extra weapons training simply made sense.

“You’re not _wrong,_ ” she admitted, rubbing her hand up her arm. “It's just... the idea of actually using real, sharpened blades for an initial training session seems like we're tempting fate.”

Upon hearing a small snuff of amusement, she glanced back at Krem, who leaned lazily against the wooden fence.

“Krem," she said, appealing to her friend. "feel free to tell him he's had better ideas.”

Krem lifted his shoulders in a placid shrug.

“I _have_ told him, Your Worship. Many times. The Chief thinks wooden weapons are for children.” He shot her a reassuring smile, trying to soften his words. "Don't worry. I guarantee you he knows what he's doing by now. ...Or he should, anyway."

Bull snorted at their conversation and walked to the middle of the ring, his giant axe resting easily on his shoulder.

"Come on, Boss. Choose an axe and I'll start easy."

Ellana shuffled to the fence to select a modest-sized axe, making a low noise in her throat as she went.

“Fine, you hardass," she grumbled without any heat. "But if I get hewn into a wet, meaty mess in the middle of the training ring, I expect you or Krem to pick the stones out of my remains and send me back to the Free Marches.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Krem grin.

“Of course, Your Worship.”

“And _you_ can tell Leliana what happened.”

At that, Krem made an unimpressed face.

Bull grunted, shifting his axe off his shoulder into an offensive position.

“Alright, boss. Let’s see what we can do.”

**

To Ellana’s chagrin, the answer was “not much”.

In her defense, she was used to her daggers. By now, even if she directed a sloppy jab towards an enemy, she normally ended up poking something vital. A battle axe, however, was a completely foreign beast to her. The unbalanced blade constantly twisted around, causing her to readjust her grip. To make matters worse, the weight of it felt wrong; it was too one-sided to be comfortable, and too heavy to be used with finesse.

Her discomfort with it showed.

The first time she leveled a careful swing at Bull, he deflected it with a lazy, underhanded swipe. She gritted her teeth and swung harder the next time - too hard, as it turned out. To her embarrassment, Bull simply stepped aside at the last moment, causing her to overbalance and stumble into the dirt.

By the time Bull finally called a break a half an hour later, she was breathing hard, her hands on her knees and her muscles burning while the axe sat abandoned in the dirt.

“Well, what do you think?” He shot her a wide, paternal grin as he headed to the fence to retrieve his waterskin. "Great, right?"

Ellana huffed a tired laugh.

"Bull, you are like a big, dear puppy to me and I love you immensely, so please don't be offended when I say this: I think I hate this weapon."

Bull continued to grin, unperturbed by Ellana's frank assessment.

"Yeah. They're sure-as-shit not for everyone".

With amused eyes, he took a long drink from his waterskin, then swallowed and tossed it to Ellana.

“Don’t get discouraged, Boss," he rumbled, “I know this isn’t your thing, but no one picks it up in one day.”

Ellana nodded as she gratefully raised the waterskin to her lips and drank deeply. Bull leaned back against the wooden railing as he waited for her to finish, content to give her the recovery time she needed.

“So," he said, filling the silence as she drank. "Has Dorian managed to decipher those charcoal rubbings we brought home from the Hissing Wastes? The ones with the dwarven text about that paragon?... Fared? Fairen?" He grunted in frustration and looked over at Krem.

"Krem, help me out?"

"Fairel, Chief."

Ellana swallowed a mouthful of warm, leathery-tasting water and shook her head.

“Mm. No. He hasn't got it all yet. He’s getting close though. Plus, I think Cullen’s been helping him, so he’s supposed to have something to report later today.”

Bull arched a dark eyebrow at her answer.

“Cullen’s helping him?”

Ellana nodded.

“I think Dorian mentioned it to him during one of their chess games and Cullen jumped all over the idea of deciphering it. I guess he really enjoys logic puzzles. I think he’s taking this on as sort of a …I don’t know. A hobby.”

Bull snorted.

“Cullen needs a better hobby.” He scratched his cheek, watching Ellana for a long moment. Slowly, a mischievous glint appeared in his eye and Ellana held up a preemptive hand, knowing that look all too well.

“ _You_. Hush _._ ” She pointed sternly at him. "I know what you're going to say."

Bull’s eyebrow quirked up in amusement.

“You sure you don't just want me to tell the good commander what you're thinking?” He said, leaning back on the sparring ring fence. "You know... I could invite him for a drink with the Chargers. Drop a few hints some time. Nudge him in the direction of your door one evening...?"

Ellana pushed a damp strand of hair off her forehead, ignoring the way her stomach squirmed pleasantly at the idea of Cullen visiting her quarters at night. She took another sip of tepid water and glowered at Bull over the waterskin, staunchly ignoring the part of her that thought _yes, that is a lovely idea_.

"You’re trying to distract me before we spar again.”

“Maybe, but you’re easily distracted.” Bull replied, still smiling. “Also, you’re deflecting. You never answered my real question.”

Ellana exhaled a quiet breath of frustration and glanced back at Krem, who simply shrugged.

“I don't think telling him is the best idea,” Ellana insisted, tossing the waterskin back to Bull. “To be honest, I don't think he's interested. The only time Cullen looks at a woman with any sort of open desire is when the cook stops by with those little chocolate tea wafers he likes.”

Bull nodded in appreciation.

“Shit, who wouldn’t? Those are _ridiculously_ good. I don't know what it is, maybe the cream...?”

To her left, Ellana heard Krem hum a low, thoughtful noise.

“I don’t think Cullen is _entirely_ distracted by his job.” He said, shifting his forearms as he leaned forward on the fence, looking intent. “Do you remember when you wore that new armor last week before you left for Redcliffe with Dorian?”

Ellana’s brow furrowed as she thought back to the week before.

“That new fitted leather set? The one with the healing enchantments?”

Krem inclined his head as if to say ‘that’s the one’. To her right, Ellana heard Bull chuckle.

“Crap, I had forgotten about that.”

He chuckled at Ellana’s confused expression, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Last week, Krem and I were crossing through the Great Hall to get to the kitchens. Cullen was walking in front of us, holding a stack of spare parchment and ink. I think he was headed to the War Room, but then _you_ walked past towards your quarters and he got an eyeful or your ass in those… herringbone? Herringbone patterned pants. The tight ones. He nearly tripped, and that ink bottle he was carrying fell off his reports and shattered on the floor. His boots got covered with black ink.”

Ellana blinked, then let out an unladylike noise of protest.

“ _Creators_ , Bull. Cullen doesn’t gawk at women’s _asses,_ ” she said, feeling oddly protective of him. She felt her tawny cheeks turn pink at the idea. “He’s very chivalrous. His boot just probably caught the edge of a flagstone.”

The two men looked as though they wanted to gleefully interject, but Ellana waved her hand and moved to pick up her axe from the dirt.

"Bull, I think I’m ready to try another drill.” she replied, hoping they'd drop the subject.

“You’re the boss, Boss.” He said, shooting Krem a quick grin over his shoulder before pacing back to the centre of the training ring with his axe resting over his shoulder. Ellana took her place, trying to look attentive despite her wandering mind. 

_Did Cullen really have a thing for those pants?_

“Back to drills, then." Bull interrupted, giving her a knowing look. "And let’s make this worthwhile. I want you to go on the offensive using one of the four attacks I taught you. If you pass my guard, I’ll… buy you one of those shitty sugary drinks you like. The ones with the tiny pink berries floating in them.”

Ellana beamed at the mention of her favorite drink, pushing aside thoughts of Cullen for now.

“All I need to do is pass your guard?”

When Bull nodded, she hefted her own smaller axe up, mimicking his confident stance.

“I'll take that gamble, and if I don't succeed, I'll buy _you_ a drink.”

Bull huffed a laugh, pleased by her bluster.

“You got it. Prepare to hand over your sovereigns.” His grin didn't fade as he shifted his weight and hunkered down in an offensive stance that Ellana had seen him use a hundred times before in the field.

Ellana smiled back, waggling her axe in a taunt. She knew she couldn't win, but if she took him by surprise...

"Remember!" she called in a bright voice, "I just need to get past your guard!"

"So do it already!"

Ellana nodded, then dropped her shoulder and moved into a simple underhanded attack position, just as he had shown her. She advanced on Bull's blind side with two quick steps and he shifted his stance in response, expecting her obvious attack. Seeing his position change, she moved to dart the other way, but before he could take a second step, Ellana abruptly tossed her axe down by his feet, causing him to sidestep in surprise.

"What the...?"

Capitalizing on his confusion, Ellana darted under his arm and flung herself against his broad back. Ignoring his grunt of surprise, she latched her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, smiling broadly when she realized her terrible idea of throwing away her weapon had actually _worked_.

“What’s your plan now, Bull?” she crowed.

Under his arms she felt him straighten.

“ _This_ is your strategy?” he barked a laugh, lowering his axe. “I mean, yeah, technically you get the win, but it's a _really_ shitty strategy that has nothing to do with the skills I taught you. Also, all I need to do is find a tree, or a rock, or a wall, then step back and crush you against it.”

“Maybe so,” Ellana continued to beam, “but there are none of those here." She gave his thick body a gleeful squeeze. " Y _ou_ , sir, owe me a drink. With extra berries, big guy."

“There may not be any rocks or walls around,” Bull smirked, ignoring her gloating, “but there is the ground.”

Without hesitation, he sank to his knees.

“Oh, come _on_.” Ellana protested, gripping his damp back tighter.

With a chuckle, Bull fell backwards, pinning Ellana to the dirt with his own crushing weight. Before she could even squawk, she found herself smothered underneath a qunari in a tangle of awkwardly positioned limbs.

“Creators, Bull!” She grunted from underneath him, feebly shoving against his damp back as he laughed above her. She was about to tell him to move when, abruptly, she heard the sound of the sparring ring gate opening with a click, followed by a deep, pleasant chuckle.

“Training going well, then?” a new voice asked.

She couldn't see the speaker, but even with one long ear half-filled with grit, she could clearly identify Cullen’s warm voice coming from a few paces away. Ellana managed to tilt her head up just enough for her to see the brown leather of his distinctive boots by the sparring ring gate.

His dark, _ink-spattered_ boots.

“Cuuulllen.” She creaked, her mind reeling at her discovery.

A moment later she heard more crunching sounds as he crouched down within her field of view, his expression heartily amused. He seemed to be waiting for an answer.

“Training is… going astoundingly well,” she managed, remembering his question. “I’ve… nnn… taken down a qunari mercenary.”

Even upside down, she could see Cullen raise a single eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smile.

“Interesting method.”

“It has a few kinks.” Ellana grunted.

“Too many.” Krem murmured from his spot by the gate, pointedly looking at Bull. Ignoring Krem, Ellana shoved her out from under Bull and sat up, feeling flustered.

“It is already time for the meeting?” she asked, swiping loose dirt off her pink cheeks. "I think Bull's had enough for today."

Cullen stood, fighting off a smile as Bull made a gruff, indignant noise.

“It is," he agreed. "I thought I’d check to see if you wanted to head to the War Room with me.”

He held his out gloved hand, his eyes still crinkling with mirth. Shooting him a self-conscious smile, Ellana took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Once fully upright, she tucked a dusty lock of black hair behind her tapered ear, feigning dignity. 

“Well," she said, turning to face Bull. "I appreciate the training. Maybe we can try again tomorrow?”

Bull gave a good-natured snort and climbed to his feet.

“Sounds good. You’d better believe I’m going to win those drinks back. That was a bullshit move and you know it.”

Ellans uttered a bright laugh.

"So was sitting on me, you ass."

Bull chuckled as she moved towards Cullen, who stood patiently with one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. She smiled as she neared him, pretending to be unconcerned about her disheveled appearance.

“All ready, Commander?”

“I am," he replied, offering his arm to her. Ellana's heart gave a nervous flutter and she glanced back at Bull just as she linked Cullen’s proffered arm in her own. To her embarrassment, Bull grinned back at Ellana, his expression showing far too many teeth to be wholly innocent.

“Best of luck, Boss.” he rumbled, barely hiding his amusement.

Suddenly feeling warm, she cleared her throat and let Cullen lead her away.


	2. Limericks and lists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen walks Ellana to the War Table meeting. Once there, Ellana informs her advisors about Dorian's research, then learns something surprising about Rylen's soldiers.

“So,” Cullen regarded Ellana with a smile as they walked arm-in-arm towards the Great Hall, their feet crunching in the gravel. “What was Bull instructing you on this morning?”

Ellana breathed a shaky laugh, feeling supremely awkward. It figured that Cullen, of all people, had to be the one to walk by when she was in the process of getting crushed by a laughing, shirtless qunari.

"I had asked Bull to help me learn to fight with battle axes, one-on-one. I am… rather poor at it," she winced. "…To put it very diplomatically.”

She ran her free hand self-consciously through her hair and felt a flash of embarrassment when her fingers brushed over several small twigs sticking up in her braid.

 _Because_ of course _there's junk in my hair.  
_

She passed her hand through her hair again, subtly trying to shake the offending twigs loose, hoping Cullen hadn't noticed. He hummed a thoughtful note to himself as they walked, politely ignoring her struggle.

“I take it that training didn’t go as you had hoped?”

Ellana exhaled a quiet sigh, letting her free hand drop as they climbed the staircase. The stubborn twigs would have to wait until she found a mirror.

“Not especially, no. I don’t have the bulk to hit hard, and I tend to over-swing and lose my balance. I know it’s just my first time trying this, but I suspect I’m not really cut out for fighting with battle axes.” Her lips twisted in a wry smile.

Cullen made a sympathetic noise.

“Few of us are, to be honest. Swords and knives are an easier way to kill people, which is why we train Inquisition soldiers with them first.”

“Huh." Ellana remarked as they climbed the steps to the Great Hall. "I'd never thought of that, but it does explain why most of our guards carry swords." Cullen nodded and Ellana arched a slim eyebrow. "How are you with axes? I've never seen you fight with one.” 

Cullen gave a humble shrug, being careful not to dislodge Ellana's arm from his own.

"I'm... passable," he replied with a tiny smile as they halted outside the doors to the Great Hall. _"_ I certainly prefer a sword and shield, though. I've been told I'm more proficient with them."

Ellana let out an amused huff.

"'Cullen, I've seen you fight Rylen and Cass. _Together_. 'Proficient' is hardly the word I would use to describe your sword-fighting skills. I feel like you were probably born with a tiny sword in your hand."

The corner of Cullen's mouth tugged up in a half smile.

"That would be an interesting experience for my mother."

Ellana laughed and moved to unloop her arm so she could push the Great Hall door open when, abruptly, she felt Cullen place his hand on her arm.

“Just a moment,” he murmured, turning to face her. With kind eyes, he reached over and plucked several twigs from her hair with his large, gentle fingers.

Ellana found herself unable to suppress a strangled noise of surprise, causing Cullen’s gaze to drop to her face. Seeing her wide eyes, his expression changed from calm contentment to a look of pure sheepishness.

“You’re… ah…  had a few twigs.” He explained, looking abashed as he dropped the twigs.

“Oh. Ah... that figures." Ellana glanced down and scuffed her feet over the discarded sticks that lay by her feet, her eyes inadvertently lingering on his one ink-stained boot. “Thank you.” She murmured.

“My pleasure.” He replied, his face noticeably flushed. An awkward silence settled over them for a brief moment before Cullen turned and pushed the door open, holding it wide for her. Grateful for the distraction, Ellana stepped inside the Great Hall’s vestibule, her mind searching for something to say to fill the silence.

“So…”

She turned and waited for him to join her by her side. “Josie told me you had a troop inspection down in the camp yesterday evening. I know the weather was a bit questionable, but how did it go?”

Cullen let out a disgruntled noise and began to lead them through the Great Hall, his demeanor professional once again.

“To be honest, the weather wasn't the issue.”

Seeing Ellana’s curious glance, he sighed as he wended his way smoothly past the Orlesian courtiers, keeping his voice low.

“There were some minor…. incidences… with the troops.”

“Incidences?” Ellana reached back and pulled her long, dark braid forward in both hands as they walked, her expression attentive.

“Mm. Unfortunately.” Cullen smiled at her gesture, then moved to push the door open to Josie’s office as they arrived. When it swung wide, Ellana stepped in and he followed, keeping his voice low when he noticed that Josie was still at work at her desk.

“If you’ll believe it," he murmured, "two lieutenants got in a squabble about a stolen fish, while another pair of soldiers had fight over a book of inappropriate limericks.”

“Limericks?” 

Josie looked up with excitement as they approached her desk. She immediately began collecting her papers into her arms, preparing to join them for the War Table meeting. “Did you read any of them?”

“Ah… perhaps,” he replied with a guilty expression. “…Yes.”

Ellana’s delighted intake of breath caused him to glance her way, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Will you share?” She prompted him, failing to keep the delight from her voice. "Cullen, I love that kind of nonsense."

Cullen scratched an eyebrow, clearly self-conscious of the ladies’ eager eyes on him.

“You... want me to recite a dirty limerick?”

Seeing the two women’s cheerful nods, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh, Maker," he mumbled in a gruff voice, moving to open the second door for the two ladies. “It’s hardly appropriate.” 

“That's _the_ point.” Josie hugged her clipboard and stepped over the threshold, openly pleased at the idea of Cullen reciting dirty poetry. He made a low grumbling noise, falling into step behind them as they walked down the vaulted corridor towards the War Room.

“Let me think.” He grunted. After a brief moment, he let out a defeated sigh and began to recite:

 

“A dwarf, wanting to hear the Stone talk,

pressed her head to her husband’s cock,

He said, ‘oh my dear,

It’s not under your ear’, 

But you’re welcome to speak to my rocks.”

 

Ellana’s breath gusted out of her in an odd squawking laugh while Josie dissolved into a fit of gleeful giggles. Cullen’s face tinted a dark shade of pink as he moved to open the tall oak door to the War Room.

 “You _did_ ask.” He remarked, his expression warring between embarrassment and amusement.

“I _did_.” Ellana chirped, beaming. “Thank you.”

“Yes, well.” He trailed off, somehow looking flustered and pleased at the same time.

Eager to abate his embarrassment, Ellana cleared her own throat.

“I remember one I heard one in Kirkwall once.” She said, calling the attention away from him. “It’s not that good, but… I'll give it a shot.”

 

“A Grey Warden tried to feint,

As he fought an Avaar in paint,

But the man fell in love

When she gave him a shove

And rubbed her hand right down his taint.”

 

Josie erupted into another round of giggles and this time, even Cullen gave an odd, snuffling laugh. The unfamiliar sound of Cullen's chuckling prompted Josie and Ellana to giggle even harder as they entered the War Room together and moved around the War Table to take their positions. Leliana, who had been examining the map, turned and watched them with silent curiosity, her face an unreadable mask.

“I’ll tell you later.” Josie mouthed to her. Leliana nodded in response, a faint smile appearing on her lips.

“Now, then.” Josie began, abruptly focusing on business as the others settled in. She glanced down at her clipboard, bad poetry seemingly forgotten. “We only have a small list of things to talk about today. The first item on the agenda is…”

 

* * *

 

To Ellana’s relief, Josie's agenda was relatively short. Before long, she ran her fingers over the last item on the bottom of her clipboard, looking pleased.

“I think that's just about it for today."

Josie glanced up, her gaze falling on Ellana. "Is there anything else you needed to add, Inquisitor?”

Ellana hummed, tapping the dark wooden tabletop as she thought.

“Just one. Dorian is almost finished deciphering that spell we need in order to translate those dwarven rubbings from the pillars in the Hissing Wastes. He has asked me to stop by the library today at lunch so he can run through what he’s found.”

Josie nodded and scribbled a short note on her parchment.

“I’ll admit, I’m beyond curious to know what they say. This could give us the answer about what Corypheus is searching for.”

Ellana nodded, watching as Josie jotted down another brief note before scanning her clipboard again.

“Oh,” she said, flipping over a page. “There’s one last item. We’ve received the monthly requisition list from Griffon Wing Keep. It seems fairly standard, although they’ve also asked for new gear for six soldiers, two additional kegs of cooking oil, and two bales of witherstalk.”

“Witherstalk?” Ellana pursed her lips, trying to determine why they needed so much. Across the table, Leliana crossed her arms, a sly smile lighting up her usually serious face.

“Why witherstalk?” Ellana asked, directing the question to Leliana, who already seemed to know.

Leliana smiled.

“I understand that life in the desert can be a bit dull. There aren’t a lot of activities the soldiers can do in their free time, save a few.”

Ellana blinked, then felt her eyes widen in surprise as the meaning of Leliana’s words abruptly fell into place.

“Are… you… telling me the Griffon Wing Keep soldiers are using that much witherstalk for … _contraceptive purposes_?”

Leliana smiled, giving Ellana all the answer she needed.

“ _Two_ bales?” Ellana replied, turning to Cullen with amazement. Cullen cast a cornered look to Leliana, then guiltily rubbed the back of his neck as Ellana continued to gape at him.

“Cullen, our _soldiers_!” Ellana exclaimed. "Are they that ... busy?"

He cleared his throat.

“Knight-Captain Rylen reports that morale is improving as of late…” he murmured, having the grace to look flustered.

“ _Two bales,_ though!” Ellana let out a breathy laugh, startled by the revelation. She knew for a fact that two bales of witherstalk was enough to make contraceptive potions for the entire population of Skyhold for several months. “Hoo…" she continued, feeling her face redden. "If I ever get demoted from Inquisitor, remind me to ask for a transfer to Griffon Wing Keep.” She bit her bottom lip, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Josie let out a bright laugh while Cullen stared her with a peculiar look on his face, his complexion a little rosier than normal.

“Did you all know about this?” Ellana asked, eyeing her advisors in turn.

“I… yes.” Cullen coughed politely. “Rylen did mention the… ah… collaborative environment… of Griffon Wing Keep.”

Josie and Leliana simply nodded, confirming it. Ellana scrubbed a hand over her face.

“…hhhuh,” she murmured, not sure what to make of the news, or the fact that she was the last to know.

When no one else spoke up, she cleared her throat again, trying to pull herself together. “Well, that seems like a reasonable request. Can you see that the quartermaster gets the list so he can fill the requisition?”

Josie nodded, hiding a small smile as she jotted down the note.

“Excellent.” Ellana crossed her arms, willing herself to stop fidgeting. “Right. If that’s everything, I’m going to clean up and meet up with Dorian about those translations. I will keep you posted on what he finds. If all goes well, this spell may be the answer to our problems.”


	3. Lost in translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian tries to make things better, then makes things spectacularly worse.

An hour later, after a hot bath and an outfit change, Ellana trekked her way up the stone steps to Skyhold’s library, intent on finding Dorian. She found him in the first place she looked; seated at one of the sturdy research tables, scowling down at a sheet of parchment with his quill in hand.

“Hi, friend.” She chirped, moving around the table to catch his attention. 

Dorian glanced up from his work and broke into a wide grin.

“Ah, _there_ you are." He lowered his quill. "And how has your morning been so far?”

Ellana scrunched her nose, causing the tattooed line of her vallaslin to crinkle.

“Well enough, I suppose, although Bull sat on me during training.” She made a face as she perched on the edge of his work table. “…Well, more _fell_ than _sat_ , but the effect was the same. On that note, did you know that that ribs can make a creaking noise when a qunari sits on them?"

Dorian raised his eyebrows.

“...Yes?" 

Ellana's own eyebrows shot up and Dorian breathed a self-conscious laugh as he wiped the nib of his quill. "Buy me a drink tonight and I'll explain. In the meantime, you're here to discuss the translations?"

“...I am.” She glanced down at the parchment on the work table.  “Any progress?”

Dorian turned his attention to the scattered pages in front of him and frowned.

“It’s… complicated," he replied, his lips thinning in frustration. "The inscriptions about Fairel’s Tomb were written in an ancient dwarven script and, to no one’s surprise, Skyhold has a dearth of ancient dwarves to consult.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I _was_ hoping to find some helpful references in one of our libraries, but, to be frank, most of these books are as useless as a Fereldan cat.”  He made a dismissive flicking gesture to a pile of discarded books that sat on the floor nearby. “As it turns out, we have plenty of fawning eulogies for long dead dwarves, but none reference Fairel's "grand treasure" and all of them are written in Common. We have no ancient texts to help us translate the runes.”

Dorian leaned across the table and pushed a sheet of parchment aside, revealing another scrap of parchment covered in slanted, familiar handwriting.

“Cullen tried his best to match the ancient dwarven runes to some _modern_ texts we have, but he had to give up eventually. Our library simply doesn’t have the right books for this.”

Ellana reached down and touched the page filed with Cullen’s writing. She found herself biting back as smile as she noted the way his handwriting became increasingly _irritated_ the farther down the page she gazed.

“So we can’t translate the rubbings we took off the pillars?”

“Oh, we can translate them.” Dorian held up a finger. “We just need to use alternative means.”

Ellana tucked a dark lock of hair around her ear, not entirely surprised by his suggestion.

“…You mean magic.”

“I do.” He nodded.

She squinted at him, thinking his suggestion over. If the answer to their problem was a simple spell, she knew he would have already performed it by now. Ellana cocked her eyebrow.

“There’s a catch though.”

“Not a _catch_ , per se,” Dorian hedged, “but you’re right - my solution isn’t perfect. Essentially, it's this: one of the spell books that I brought from Tevinter contains a translation spell written in Tevene, but if this serendipitous coincidence sounds vague and dodgy, it’s because it _is_ vague and dodgy. Spell books in Tevinter are often handed down from mentors to their pupils, so the books accumulate a lot of notes over time. The translation spell I’ve found was handwritten into the book by one of its previous owners, so I have no idea if the magic is ineffective or dangerous. Or both, if we want to get festive.”

Ellana blew out a frustrated breath, causing her bangs to flop to the side of her face.

“Dorian, that sounds reckless.”

He shot her a dazzling smile.

“The word you’re looking for, Elle, is ‘exciting’.”

Ellana ignored the way his eyes crinkled with delight.

"...You can speak Tevene, right?”

Dorian nodded.

"I can, but it’s not my mother tongue. Technically, Tevene is the official language of the Imperium, but it’s official in name only. The reality is that everyone speaks Common first. Like all members of the aristocracy, my education included Tevene, so I’m proficient enough to know that the spell _should_ work.”

“...But you’ve never used this magic before.”

“No," he admitted. "And that’s why I have to be perfectly honest. There’s an element of risk here.”

Ellana rubbed her forehead, her fingers scrubbing along the dark tattooed lines of her vallaslin.

“What kind of risk? Is this a ‘hey, the spell didn’t work’ kind of risk, or a ‘oops, this spell turned all the ink into flames and the whole library spontaneously combusted’ kind of risk?”

"Yes. To all of it.” Dorian replied, his expression bland.

“Uuuhn.” Ellana groaned, feeling abruptly weary. “You’re sure there isn’t any other _safer_ spell?”

“There may be, but certainly not here. Not in this wasteland of a library.”

Ellana huffed out a breath through her nose, not sure whether to feel amused or defeated.

“...Alright. Just… make copies of the rubbings before you go ahead with it. We don’t want to lose them in a fiery, magical mishap.”

“I was actually in the process of duplicating them.” Dorian gestured to the fresh parchment in front of him. “I have one more page to transcribe and then we can send the copies to Josie for safekeeping.”

Ellana nodded.

“Do you mind if I stick around and watch when you cast the spell? I’m curious to see the results, but I can also run for help if anything … you know… explodes.”

“Of course,” he remarked, seemingly unperturbed by the idea. “Just give me two more minutes to finish this copy and we can figuratively toss the dice. It should be exhilarating, if nothing else.”

Ellana nodded again and hopped off the work table. Dorian immediately bent to work and Ellana slipped away, ducking into the library alcove nearby to give him time to finish his task. As she waited, she found herself peering out the small, leaded window by his chair, scanning the grounds outside for the familiar hues of Cullen’s red and gold surcoat. When she failed to spot him after a long minute of searching, she stifled a sigh.

 _Ridiculous woman,_ she thought.  _Bull and Krem were probably just joking._

Willing herself to dwell of something else, she idly ran her fingers over the leaded lines in the glass window, thinking back to the War Council meeting instead. It had certain been an  _interesting_ meeting.

“...Hey, Dorian?” 

“Hmm?” He replied, his eyes still trained on the parchment in front of him.

“Apropos of nothing, have you ever heard any rumors about Griffon Wing Keep?“

Dorian paused and his quill went silent.

“Other than the fact that it’s an architectural monstrosity?”

Ellana exhaled a quiet laugh.

“Other than that, yes.”

Dorian glanced at her, his expression curious. ““I’ve heard nothing in particular. Why do you ask?”

Ellana turned and cast a quick look to the mezzanine. Seeing no one, she lowered her voice.

“This is between you and me, but I found out today that the soldiers stationed at Griffon Wing Keep are … _quite actively_ seeking out one another’s company. Enough for Rylen's most recent requisition to include an order for an utterly obscene amount of contraceptive potion, in any case.”

Dorian’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he let the meaning of her words sink in. After the briefest of moments, his face lit up like the dawning sun.

“...You’re _joking_.”

“I’m _not_.” Ellana couldn’t help but smile at Dorian’s delight. “And apparently all the advisors knew already. When I asked Cullen about it, he told me Rylen said it was ‘good for morale’.

Dorian barked a loud laugh, forgetting his transcriptions entirely.

 “Venhedis!” he breathed. “That seems oddly sinful for what is - purportedly- a religious organization. What I would have paid to see Cullen’s expression when he told you about _that."_ He leaned back, savouring the thought. "How did you respond?”

Ellana gave a short laugh, rubbing her arm self-consciously.

“Honestly? I told him that if I ever get demoted from my position as Inquisitor, I wanted him to station me there.”

Dorian shot her a look of unadulterated joy.

“Forget my earlier request,” he beamed. “If there was ever I time I wanted to see the look on our Commander’s face, it would be _right then_.”

Ellana smiled, her eyes crinkling with fondness as she thought of Cullen’s wide-eyed expression.

“He did turn a little pink, actually.”

“Well, _of course_ he did.” Dorian smirked. “You’ve combined the topics of ‘Ellana Lavellan’ and ‘obscene amounts of sex’. That man’s _bound_ to get flustered.”

Ellana tugged her ear, reddening a little.

“Is that because the thought of the saintly Herald being associated with sin would be utterly scandalous?”

Dorian snorted.

“Cullen is not that pious, _believe me_. No, I rather think he had that reaction because he found the idea supremely appealing.”

Ellana’s stomach gave a flip even as she felt her cheeks redden further.

“ _Pardon me_?”

Dorian leaned his arm over the back of his chair, looking smug.

“Ellana, listen, I’ve been meaning to chat to you about this. After spending the week working on these translations with Cullen, I can say with some measure of confidence that the man is besotted with you.”

Ellana’s mouth fell open.

“…I don’t… _no_.” She muttered. “Dorian, last week I tried to give him a hug and he _shook my hand_.”

Dorian raised a single, beautifully sculpted eyebrow in amusement.

“Well, yes, I can see that. Perfectly, actually. That said, he spent quite a lot of time talking about you while he was up here with me. The man has, let's just say, a very high opinion of you.”

Ellana blinked, feeling oddly vulnerable by the sudden revelation. This was the second time today that someone had pointed out Cullen's supposed infatuation. She hardly knew what to feel, although 'terrified, dubious joy' about covered it.

Not sure how to handle the swell of emotions churning through her, she frowned.

“Having 'high opinions' does not translate to being ‘ _besotted_ ’."

Dorian gave a small, empathetic smile.

“Perhaps not, but, for what it’s worth, he distractedly called you 'beautiful'. _Several times._ 'Beautiful' is not exactly the word I’d use to describe my superior unless there was something more behind it.”

Ellana exhaled an unsteady breath as a dangerous amount of hope welled up in her chest.

“Maybe,” she murmured, her gaze flicking out the window to scan the troops outside again. Dorian turned back to his work and Ellana’s ear twitched as his quill began to make pleasant scratching noises again.

“So," he asked after several long moments. "Are you going to do anything about it?” 

Ellana shifted against the stone and pushed her bangs aside with a shaky hand. 

"Let's pretend that your intuition is right." Ignoring Dorian's huff of displeasure, she carried on. "What _should_ I do about it?”

Dorian halted his writing again and turned to scrutinize her.

“I’m not going to ask if this is what you want, because you’ve already strongly implied to me that you have feelings for Cullen. And by ‘strongly implied’, I mean that the last time we drank too much at the Herald’s Rest, you told me you 'liked the idea of him working under you', then wiggled your eyebrows so hard I swore they were going to fall off.”

Ellana uttered an inelegant grunt and leaned the back of her head against the hard stone wall, intentionally avoiding looking at Dorian’s sunny grin.

“So,” he continued when she failed to look his way. “Ask him for a casual drink. Try inviting him for a glass of wine and a game of chess in your room. If he’s not interested, the invitation won’t see too unseemly, and if he _is_ interested, I’m sure the poor man will fumble enough to make his infatuation absolutely clear.”

Ellana squinted as she stared up at the dark ceiling, thinking Dorian’s plan over. There didn’t seem to be any _blatant_ problems with the idea. After a few long moments, she lowered her head to look at him.

“That seems… very reasonable.”

“’ _Perfect’_ is the word you mean.” Dorian replied as he set his quill back down. “And speaking of perfect, I’ve finished the last copy.”

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his shoulders as he admired his own precise printing on the parchment in front of him. “It’s nicely done, even if I don’t have _any_ idea of what I’ve just written.”

He blew a gentle breath across the page, drying the ink. When he was certain it was dry to the touch, he flagged down a passing scout with one hand and handed the documents off with instructions to deliver them to Josie's office.

“Now then,” Dorian stood as the scout disappeared down the stone steps, copies in hand. “Shall we see what this spell of mine can do?” He clapped his hands together.

Ellana pushed off the wall, feeling her heart give an excited lurch.

“Absolutely." She chirped, her nerves still jangling from Dorian's revelation. "Should I stand back?”

Dorian shrugged and pulled his spell book across the table towards himself.

“Stand wherever you like. It looks as though the spell is directed to the text itself, so you shouldn’t feel anything but a slight tingle of ambient magic.”

Ellana nodded and watched as Dorian spread the four pages of translations out on the table, making sure his spell book was centered between them all. When the table was arranged to his satisfaction, he shot her a quick wink.

“Ready?”

“Very.” Ellana beamed.

Dorian took a deep breath and, after a slight pause, he began to incant the spell under his breath. Ellana remained silent, watching with attentive eyes in case the parchment started to spark or smoulder. She knew the likelihood of it happening was small, and yet... the longer the spell dragged on, the more Ellana became aware of a quiet, nagging feeling building in the back of her mind. To her dismay, the air around them began to hum with an odd, electric energy, making her feel unsettled in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Concerned now, Ellana cast a quick look at Dorian for reassurance, but found him too absorbed in his spell book to notice.

She was about to step back a pace when the air _pulsed_ around them, setting her teeth chattering as Dorian released the spell. For the briefest of moments, her mind went white as the magic washed over her. Half a breath later and the odd feeling was gone.

"Mythal'enaste," she mumbled to herself, moving to steady herself against the nearest shelf.

Dorian only grunted in agreement before leaning down to inspect the rubbings in front of him. Pushing her own feelings of discomfort aside, Ellana scooted up to the table beside Dorian and peered down at the pages that displayed the angular dwarven text. Mercifully, the pages were whole and un-singed by the powerful spell, but to Ellana's disappointment, the dwarven text remained completely unchanged.

"It didn't work," she remarked, reaching down to touch the wrinkled pages with the pads of her fingers. Stifling her disappointment, she nudged Dorian's arm, trying to be supportive.

"We didn't set fire to the library though, so... you know… small blessings." She paused. “Although, if these books are as useless as you say they are, maybe fire might have done us all a favor.”

To her surprise, Dorian simply stared back at her, his dark eyebrows pushed together in concern.

"Ellana..." he frowned. "Sadeth a artheal arnan et Elvish?"

Ellana titled her head, confused at the unfamiliar words coming from his mouth.

"Uh... pardon me?"

Dorian took a deep, shaky breath and tried again.

"Reld ala. Plur dit temla ni Common."

Ellana licked her bottom lip, comprehension slowly dawning. She had inadvertently spoken _Elvish_ to Dorian a moment before. More specifically, she had spoken the first language she had learned; a Dalish trade tongue comprised of Elvish and local Free Marcher vernacular. She hadn’t spoken the language fluently in months, but the words tumbled out of her lips as if no time had passed. To make matters worse, she hadn't understood a word he had said in response.

An uncomfortable thought flitted through her mind as she stared down at his spell book.

"Dorian... the translation spell...”

When more Elvish words tumbled from her lips, she made an irritated noise in the back of her throat and tried again.

“The translation spell _did_ work, didn't it? Just... not in the way we hoped."

Dorian closed his eyes as he listened to her speak, his frustration plain. From his grimace, she could tell that he had come to the same conclusion. His spell had backfired.

“Reth navis…” he growled, and Ellana knew a curse when she heard one.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed down the bubble of fear that rose in her chest.

"Okay, well,” she muttered, conscious that he couldn’t understand her. "First things first. Is there a reverse spell?"

Seeing his bleak, uncomprehending stare, she tapped his spell book in demonstration and wiggled her fingers, hoping he'd understand the gesture. To her relief, Dorian nodded and bent down to examine the spell book again.

"Neth a lendial beste ti redect et al Fairel." He muttered, more to himself to Ellana.

At the sound of the incomprehensible words, she tugged her ear in a nervous gesture, feeling useless. She knew relatively little about Tevene, and even less about the mechanics of magic or spell reversal. Standing by the end of the table, she took another steadying breath.

 _"Okay,_ think _, Ellana,"_ she silently chided herself. _"You can’t speak Common and Dorian can’t speak Elvish. ...On the upside, though, the spell didn’t ruin anything and it seems to be localized to the two of us._ _…Right?"_

The unsettling thought sat heavy in her chest.

_But... what if it wasn't localized?  
_

Whirling on her heel, she jogged over to the railing of the rotunda and looked down, her eyes searching for the familiar form of Solas. To her relief, she spotted him climbing down his scaffolding with hurried steps, looking rattled.

“Solas!” she called down, catching his attention as he stepped off the ladder. “Can you understand me?”

Solas’ eyebrows furrowed as she stared up at her.

“Ar tel' understand.” He called up, frowning. “Did ahn telir happened?”

Ellana gripped the rail tighter even as shock registered on Solas' face, startled at the sound of his own response. To Ellana's ear, he was clearly speaking a dialect of Elvish, but she didn't know all the terms he was using. Strangely enough, the words she _could_ understand seemed… off. Antiquated, even.

"Oh, _Creators_ ," Ellana breathed. She closed her eyes and resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. The last thing the Inquisitor needed to do was panic during a potential crisis.

As she willed herself to take a deep, steadying breath, she felt the air stir beside her – a gentle breeze as if someone had opened a nearby window. She opened her eyes and started, surprised to see Cole standing beside her, looking expectant.

" _Cole_ ," she exhaled in relief. Grateful for his presence, she touched his arm. "I think I made a mistake. I told Dorian to try an untested translation spell and it didn’t work the way we thought. Now I can’t stop speaking Elvish, Dorian can only speak Common, and Solas..." She gestured to a baffled-looking Solas in the rotunda below. "I don't even know. He has some odd, muddled Elvish thing going on. I think we're stuck speaking our first language.”

Cole tilted his head and frowned.

"Vos mots sont différents," he replied, his calm voice tinged with a hint of confusion. "Je ne comprends pas." 

Ellana stared at him for a moment, struggling to make sense of what he had just said. His words didn’t sound like Dorian’s, and they certainly weren’t Elvish…

" _Orlesian,_ ” she exhaled after a moment. “You’re speaking _Orlesian_.”

Feeling frustration welling up, she let go of his arm and laced her fingers together back behind her neck. "Uuuhg… of _course_. You’re from Orlais, near the White Spire, so of course your first language was Orlesian.”

Cole said nothing, but simply waited, his expression now faintly concerned.

“Okay,” Ellana remarked, trying to shake off her feeling of dread. “Uhhh... first things first, we need should let the others know.”

She held up her fingers, ticking them off as she spoke.

“We need Josie especially, and Leliana, and Cullen…” She trailed off as a plan began to formulate in her mind.

"Cole...” She looked at him. “I need your help, but I can’t explain it to you in words. I'm just going to... I don't know. _Think_ my idea at you.”

Cole blinked.

Taking his silence as a ‘yes’, Ellana closed her eyes and did her best to imagine the War Room: the tall ceilings, the feel of the carefully waxed table, the scent of extinguished candles after a meeting wrapped up. When the visual was firmly in her head, she then imagined each member of the Inner Circle standing at intervals around the table. When the full image was complete, she took a deep breath and _pushed_  the thought his way, praying that he'd understand.

 _I need them here,_ she thought. _Please._

To her relief, she opened her eyes to see Cole looking back at her, his eyes bright with comprehension.

"You understand, don't you?" Ellana reached out and touched his hand. "Can you call the others to the War Table?"

Cole nodded, clearly pleased at the prospect of helping. Ellana let out a relieved breath and moved in to press a quick peck to his cheek.

"Thank you, peach.” She said, willing him to feel her gratitude. “Meet me there as soon as you can."

Cole nodded again and then, in a blink, he was gone. 

Ellana took another deep breath, trying to soothe her own ruffled emotions. If Cole could get everyone to the War Room, they could hobble together a plan and run damage control while Dorian worked on reverting the spell. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it beat the utter confusion that would undoubtedly take hold if all of Skyhold was affected.

Ellana turned back to the table where Dorian stood scowling down at his spell book, his brow wrinkled with deep concern. Heaving a sigh, she headed over, dreading their next move. This was bound to be one of most awkward War Table meetings ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: The most unprofessional War Table meeting ever. (Cullen's POV)
> 
> PS: I chose Cole's first language based on the fact that he was brought to Val Royeaux when he was imprisoned, presumably making him a resident of Orlais. I haven't been able to verify it, though.  
> Artistic license, hoo-ray!


	4. Speaking in tongues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inner Circle hold a War Council meeting (with questionable success).

The War Room was oddly quiet. 

For once, Cullen couldn't hear the insistent scratching sound of Josie's quill, nor the subtle creak of his own clenched leather gloves. Instead, cheerful bird songs filtered in through the small, propped-open windows, giving the room a pleasant, summery feel.

It was... nice. 

Grateful for the peaceful solitude, Cullen leaned over the War Table and frowned down at the crinkled, brown map beneath him, his eyes focused on the Hissing Wastes. A small forest of metal tokens littered the region, each one representing a problem: a Venatori encampment, a red Templar base, a  _dragon_ , for Maker's sake...

"Death by a thousand pokes", Varric had joked to him once, prophesizing Cullen's ultimate end. Cullen had only sighed in agreement.

Now alone in the War Room, Cullen continued to frown down at the map of the Hissing Wastes, only wincing slightly as a migraine gave a particularly painful throb behind his right eye. Absently, he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to shake off the bleary feeling that had accompanied him all morning. 

He could do this. He could get through a simple headache.

He always did.

Cullen sighed and squinted at the tiny drawing that represented the Sunstop Mountain camp, only for his focus to be shattered a moment later by the slow creaking sound of the War Room door opening. He lifted his head to see the Inquisitor entering, her lips tight with concern. Cullen straightened as their eyes met, pushing aside thoughts of Venatori encampments and endless seas of sand.

"Ah... Ellana." 

His gaze flicked down as he took in her changed appearance. She had replaced her scuffed, leather armor with a sunny, knee-length dress and dark suede boots. Her dark hair, now free of twigs, was braided back and pinned up in a loose crown, giving her an uncharacteristically regal appearance.

His heart gave an odd twang at the sight.

Remembering himself, Cullen raised his gloved hand in greeting, trying to smooth over the awkwardly long pause.

"Cullen," Ellana exhaled, her eyes never leaving his. His name on her lips seemed strained, almost brittle, and he found himself frowning.

"I… is something wrong?"

Ellana shook her head and held up a hand in a "wait" gesture as she crossed the room to stand at the War Table's edge.  

"Cullen," she began again, coming to a halt only a few feet from him. "Ar ra's ir to av’ahna mah ma elana eolasa?" 

Cullen blinked.

 _Elvish_.

Ellana was speaking  _Elvish_  to him. Not only that, she was looking at him, her head tilted as if she was trying to gauge his reaction. Cullen blanched, feeling intensely self-conscious. 

"Ellana, I apologize, I... can't speak Elvish."

To his dismay, the hopeful look on her face vanished. 

"Fenedhis." Ellana sighed.

"Don't worry, Commander," a new, deeper voice chimed in, causing Cullen to look over Ellana's shoulder towards the door. To his surprise, Dorian was striding towards them, his arms filled with parchment and books. "As far as I can tell," Dorian continued, "she has no idea what you're saying either."

"She... doesn't?" Cullen shot a glance to Ellana, who was now watching Dorian, her dark eyebrows knitted as if she was trying very hard to understand him. 

"Not a word." Dorian replied. "Well, except names. Those are universal, it would seem."

Seeing Cullen's baffled expression, Dorian thumped his collection of books onto the War Table and sighed.

"To make a long story short, I just cast a translation spell which backfired with spectacularly ironic results." Dorian’s eyebrow gave a telling quirk. "...Terrible translation spell, really. Anyway, as a result, Ellana was caught in the spell's aura and now only understands Elvish."

"... what?" Cullen croaked, feeling his head give a grumpy throb of pain. He rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm, trying to will away his migraine. "But what about you?"

Dorian shook his head.

"I appear to be limited to speaking one language as well. My first language, it would seem."

Cullen grimaced.

"So... how are you talking to me? Wouldn't this spell... shouldn't you be speaking Tevene?"

"Conveniently, no," Dorian replied. "My mother tongue is Common, which seems to be a boon in this case, since the majority of people in Skyhold seem to be in the same boat." 

He flipped open a small spell book and pointed down at the text.

"I didn't catch the issue with the translation spell because it's written in an form of old Tevene. I thought I had a solid grasp of the language, but apparently, I thought wrong. The problem lies in the fact that there are multiple meanings to some of the words that I simply didn't catch. Meanings that have long since been abandoned."

He made a face.

"Here's a lesson in hubris, if I ever saw one."

Cullen rubbed his forehead, trying to put all the pieces together.

"So... Ellana can't understand us?"  

Dorian's gaze darted to Ellana.

"Until I fix it, yes. And given the radius of the spell, I imagine that Bull, Cass, Solas, Josie, and all the Orlesians in the Great Hall are enduring a similar sort of problem." Dorian gestured to one of the books in front of him. "I can likely reverse it, but you'll probably want to run some damage control until then."

Cullen rubbed his hand down his stubble, feeling a bubble of frustration swell inside him.

"You can _likely_  reverse it..." he muttered, glancing at Ellana.

She was no longer looking their way. Instead, she had slid a piece of parchment away from Dorian and was bent over the table, sketching something with quick strokes of a quill pen. The tip of her tongue stuck out as she frowned down at the page and Cullen resisted the urge to smile despite the ridiculousness of their situation.

Instead, he tilted his head to see what she was drawing. Seeing him lean closer, Ellana put her quill down and held up the page to show him. Cullen stared at her drawing, taking a long moment to realize she had scribbled an image of the War Table, surrounded by ... stick people. One of the larger stick people had horns, another had a floppy-brimmed hat, and a third had a bushy beard.

Ellana tapped the paper, her wide eyes on him.

"Elithast nivhellan."

"The War Table." Cullen guessed, squinting at her endearingly terrible drawing. "You're... calling everyone here?"

She gave the flat surface of the War Table a solid pat, then held her hand up in a 'wait' gesture. 

As if on cue, the door swung open and Sera sauntered in, holding a gooey pastry in each hand. Solas followed her a moment later, unobtrusively moving to take a spot on the far side of the table, his expression unreadable.

"Hey," Sera remarked, coming to stand beside Dorian. "So what’s all this about?" 

Dorian glanced to his right, eyeing Sera.

"I cast a translation spell on a series of dwarven texts and the whole thing went… rather poorly. As a result, the spell reverberated and we're all temporarily limited to speaking one language; likely, the first we learned." He looked down to his book and flipped a page, frowning down at the text. "Ellana is gathering us here to mitigate the fallout."

Sera's expression went from bland disinterest to radiant delight.

" _You_ buggered up a spell? …You're shitting me."

"I wish I was." Dorian replied in a bland voice.

"Ahhaaa. See?” Sera gloated, ignoring his slight eye roll. “It’s rubbish, magic. Even the good ones arse it up sometimes.”

Dorian gave a prickly grunt. Reading his mood, Sera shrugged and peered up at Cullen instead. 

"Hey..." she began, pausing to take a bite of her pastry. " So, you look like shite right now. Thought you'd happy that the nobles in the hall can't speak to you."  

Cullen exhaled a soft sigh through his nose.

"Hello, Sera."

“You eat anything today?" 

Cullen rubbed a hand down his neck, thinking.

_Had he?_

"I haven't ... no. ...I think I had some tea?" He felt a flicker of self-consciousness as Ellana looked up at the sound of his voice, making eye contact with him from across the table. Ellana had chided him about his eating habits only the week before. He had promised to do better. Cullen cleared his throat, looking back to Sera. "I'll stop by the kitchen to get something once the meeting is done." 

Sera appraised him openly, still chewing her roll.

"Well, _here_ , then" she said, hooking her finger into one of the large pockets of his maroon surcoat and dropping in her second gooey sweet roll. "Eat that. Grow big and strong."

Cullen made a dismayed noise and reached into his pocket, pulling out the sticky gift. 

“Ah… thank you?" 

He held the soft roll in his gloved hand, eyeing it cautiously. It certainly  _looked_ good. The sweet, slightly-squashed pastry was coated with a swirl of creamy white icing that smelled strongly of vanilla. Cullen's stomach growled at the sight, hungry for food despite his pounding headache. With a wary glance to Sera, he took a bite of the pastry.

"There you go!" Sera chirped, beaming. Before she could say more, the War Room door creaked open and Varric walked in, followed by Blackwall and a very baffled looking Cassandra. Varric approached the table, glancing at Sera and Cullen with a furrowed brow.

"Could someone tell me why Cole was so insistent we get here?" He asked, choosing a spot on the other side of Sera. "I appreciate his cryptic messages as well as the next dwarf, but today was a bit much. He  _herded_  me here.” 

Before Cullen could swallow a mouthful of his pastry, Sera spoke up.

"We’re here ‘cause Dorian buggered up a spell and now half the Skyhold folk can't understand each other because they can't speak each other's language. 'Lana needs us to come up with plan before everyone gets pissy."

Varric's eyebrows rose and Blackwall let out a small snuff of surprise.

"Really?"

" _Really_." Sera grinned. "I think we can communicate cause Common was our first language and apparently that matters, but all the others are doing their own thing. Whether they want to or not.” Sera paused. "Bull is up shit creek, I bet."

Varric looked around the room, mentally cataloguing each person as he thought.

"So Cassandra is limited to speaking Nevarran and Ellana understands ...what? ...Elvish?"

"It would seem so." Dorian chimed in, his eyes still scanning the page in front of him. 

"Aha." Varric replied, eyeing Cassandra. She scowled and crossed her arms in response, clearly displeased with the mischievous tone of his voice.

Ignoring the silent interchange between Varric and Cassandra, Cullen took another bite of his pastry and glanced back at Ellana, who had since resumed drawing. By now, she had a small heap of hasty drawings lying on the table to her left. Cullen leaned over to get a second look, but was interrupted as the War Room door creaked open again, admitting Josie, Vivienne, and Leliana. Before the door had fully closed, Cole slipped in, followed by Bull. 

"I think that's everyone.” Varric remarked, watching with amusement as Bull tilted his head to ensure his horns didn't scrape the side of the doorframe. When the door finally clicked shut and Leliana and Vivienne glided to the last empty spots around the table, everyone fell silent. 

"So, Varric spoke up, "Who wants to explain... well, whatever this is?"

Eleven other sets of eyes turned to Ellana, who continued to draw, unaware of everyone's gaze on her. Cullen hastily shoved the remainder of his pastry in his pocket and reached down to gently touch her arm, causing her to look up.

"Inquisitor?" he murmured.

Dark eyes looked up at him, blinking in surprise. Cullen lifted his chin in a beckoning gesture, silently encouraging her to look around the room.

"Oh!" she chirped, seeing everyone's eyes on her for the first time. She straightened and gave a quick, little wave.

"Ah... andaran atish’an."

From the corner of her eye, Cullen saw Josie politely return the wave. Ellana gave her a grateful nod, then took a deep, steadying breath.

"Ar'an ema a el da'laven," she began, looking them over as she spoke. "Thu bel ma eolasa?"

Awkward silence followed, then a quiet rustling noise followed as Solas held up his hand in a "so-so" gesture, clearly responding to a question no one else understood. Ellana let out a low huff and rubbed her cheek, her frustration clear.

"Telamdys. Lasa em'an esay min sal."

Another awkward silent followed.

Ellana's lips settled in a thin line and she let out another sigh, her shoulders lifting and falling with frustration. 

"Melana sur a vir..."

Squaring her shoulders, she walked over to Bull and linked her arm through his, peering up at him as she did. Bull, who was clearly confused by the gesture, shot Dorian a surprised look before letting Ellana guide him across the room to the far end of the table.

"Melena min." Ellana stated, making a firm 'stay' gesture. Bull nodded, blinking.

She patted his broad bicep fondly and then moved over to Solas next. Cullen and the others watched in silence as she uttered a few Elvish words to him, then linked her arm through his and guided him to a spot to Bull's left; beside him, but not _with_ him. As she did, Solas leaned in and murmured a few calm words by her ear, causing a smile to flicker across her lips. Cullen felt an unwelcome pang of envy in his gut, but stifled his reaction as he felt Leliana's gaze fall on him from across the table.

Ignoring her, he watched as Ellana worked her through the entire Inner Circle, guiding each person to a spot around the table, presumably depending on what language they could understand.

Vivienne, Leliana, and Cole were repositioned next, down by the far left side of the table. Ellana guided Josie and Cassandra to new spots next, leaving them standing alone by the windows. Both women, Cullen noted, displayed matching looks of concern.

Finally, Ellana turned her dark eyes on Cullen and gazed at him in for a brief moment, her eyes flicking down to his boot and lingering on the ink stain that marred the fine leather. Cullen stifled a sigh, wishing that he could hide his boot behind the heel of his other foot. He really needed to get a new pair.

Unaware of his internal struggle, Ellana moved around the table and came to his side where she looked up, her eyes lingering on his.

“Aneth ara,” she smiled a crooked smile, slipping her arm around his.

Despite the gravity of their situation, Cullen smiled back, pleased to feel her arm pressed to his as she gently tugged him to the far right of the table. He followed automatically, ignoring the all-too-smug grin that Varric shot him from across the table.

She led Cullen to the far right side of the table with the other Common speakers, then cast him a fleeting smile before relinquishing his arm and moving on to Blackwall.

Varric, who now stood to his right, leaned in, his voice lowered conspiratorially. 

"Alright there, Curly?" 

Cullen let out a long breath through his nose and chose to focus on Ellana instead, watching stoically as she escorted Sera around the table to his side.

A minute later and she had completed her sorting. Cullen surveyed the room, noting that she had positioned all the Orlesian speakers in one group to the left of the table, with all the Common speakers on her right. Cassandra, Josie, Bull, and Solas stood on their own, all displaying varying degrees of self-consciousness, or in Solas' case, complete nonchalance. 

"Mah leal." Ellana remarked to herself, seemingly satisfied. "Mala ga'alin iehn dirtha as'var." She pointed at each group in turn. "Orlei, An'ordin, Ina'lan'ehn, Hunvhen, Galin, Elvhenor."

Returning to her place by the centre of the War Table, she riffled through her drawings before selecting a picture and holding it up.

“Ver a britha.”

Cullen squinted to see her drawing better. From what he could see, it depicted Dorian and Ellana in a library, surrounded by a burst of wiggly lines and sparkles. Cullen assumed it was Ellana's attempt at drawing magic. 

"Ellana." She remarked, pointing to the scribble of herself. 

"Dorian." She pointed to the tiny Dorian next, then to the real one standing beside Cullen.

"I think I can help with this; at least for those who speak Common." Dorian remarked, causing all eyes to look his way. He cleared his throat.

"I was trying to translate the rubbings from the Hissing Wastes with magic, but the spell failed ...miserably. Essentially, those who fell inside the radius of the spell are stuck speaking their mother tongue. Skipping all the details where it was my fault, I'll say that, yes, I can probably fix this. In the meantime, we need to figure out what to do."

Cullen glanced over to Leliana, only to see her turn to watch Cole. Cole leaned in and murmured something, his hands making a wiggling gesture. Both Leliana and Vivienne nodded, seeming to understand. Cullen watched the exchange with curiosity. From what he could piece together, Cole seemed to be translating for the Orlesian-speaking members of the Inner Circle, possibly picking up on Ellana and Dorian’s thoughts as opposed to their language.

_Clever._

"Dorian," Cullen asked, tearing his gaze away from the Orlesians. "How powerful was this spell? The fallout of it seems oddly… excessive.”

Dorian gave a small shrug.

"It  _should_  have only affected a small radius around me, maybe five feet. Clearly, that's not the case here; I suspect the presence of Ellana's anchor might have amplified it. I can't offer an explanation as to _why_ yet.”

Cullen's brow furrowed.

"So we know what this spell _does_ , but not how widespread the impacts are, nor do we know when it will be fixed." Cullen crossed his arms. "In the meantime, the residents of Skyhold are going to become concerned at best, or panicky at worst.”

Varric made a thoughtful noise and scratched the underside if his chin.

“So we split up and spread the word around Skyhold that this is just a temporary blip. 'Carry on, this will be resolved shortly.' That sort of thing.”

Blackwall uttered a low grunt of agreement.

"Makes sense."

From across the table, Ellana make a quiet noise and held up another drawing, this one depicting a group of elaborately-dressed stick people speaking to a tall figure in a horned hat. Dashed lines were coming out of the figures' mouths.

 _Vivienne_ , Cullen guessed. From the looks of it, Ellana was asking Vivienne to communicate with the Orlesian nobles.

Cullen nodded, pleased that they all had the same idea.

"Lady Vivienne, would you please inform the Orlesian nobility?" 

Ignoring the rudeness of the gesture, he pointed across the table to Vivienne and made a talking gesture with his hand. Vivienne nodded, accepting her role with only the barest lift of her eyebrow.

Next, Ellana held up another drawing which showed a stern-looking stick man with a fur collar barking at a small group of stick people with swords.

Cracking a smile at Ellana's drawing of himself, Cullen nodded.

"I'll spread the word to the Common-speaking soldiers, Leliana can inform her Orlesian scouts, and so on." From the corner of his eye, he watched Cole lean close to Leliana, who nodded again after a moment.

Next, Ellana held up a sketch of a dark-haired elven woman with Andruil’s vallaslin talking with a hairless elf.

“Ellana. Solas.” She stated, tugging her ear, then pointing to herself, then Solas. "Ar elana dirth i’alin Tarasyl'an Te'las."

She made a taking gesture, then pointed to the door.

 _We’ll inform the Elves in Skyhold,_ Cullen guessed. The others nodded and Blackwall cleared his throat, causing the group to look his way.

"I can pass the word on to Dagna, Harritt, Harding, Dennet… any Common speakers I see, really.” He made a point to look to Josie as ticked off the names, ensuring that he pronounced each name clearly. Josie smiled, grateful for his consideration.

“Makes sense.” Varric remarked. "Bull, though….” Varric made a show of looking his way. Hearing his name, Bull arched his eyebrow.

“I think Katari is off on assignment so there aren’t any other Qunaris around right now. The means Bull can't really speak Qunlat with anyone here."

Sera snorted.

"So he can sit on his giant arse and relax though all of this.”

Seeing Bull’s blank stare, Sera pointed to him, then held up an imaginary glass and pretended to drink. When she was done, she put down her glass and crossed her arms behind her head, miming him relaxing.

Bull grinned and gave a firm 'thumbs up', understanding his role.

"Good." Sera replied. "I'll tell the Chargers and Cabot, and all the Common speakers at the ‘Rest, yeah? I’ve got them covered.”

Cullen nodded.

"We need to get word out quickly, before others start assuming this is something malicious. Let’s inform who we can, then meet back here in two hours and see how Dorian is progressing.” He held up two fingers and showed them to the others, then pointed down, as if to say ‘here’. “We'll need to make plans in case this has lasting effects."

Ellana nodded back, displaying her two fingers up to show that she understood.

"Josie, Cass, Bull, ma eolasa?" She made a questioning thumbs-up gesture, making it clear she was asking them if they understood.

Josie gave her a tenuous thumbs up, while Cassandra and Bull nodded in turn.

With a perfunctory nod, Ellana pointed to the door.

"Lasa gara min, sathan."

They all took the hint. One by one, each member of the Inner Circle filed out of the room, with Dorian announcing that he'd be in the basement library if they needed him.

Cullen hung back by the War Table as they all filed out, thinking the situation over. It was definitely inconvenient, but if Dorian didn't reverse the spell, things would become infinitely harder.

With a scowl, he picked up one of Leliana's spare tokens and absently turned it in his fingers.

At least a third of his soldiers were Orlesian. Commanding an army of soldiers who didn't speak his language would be extremely difficult, as armies depended on quick communication and immediate action. He had faith that Dorian would find a solution, but in the meantime, he needed to plan for the possibility that this was permanent.

Cullen sighed.

_Damnit._

As he stood dwelling on the possibilities, the War Room door clicked shut and the metal latch slid home with a metallic "thump". The sound jarred him from his pensive thoughts, causing him to look up and see Ellana leaning against the table, her expression weary.

“Ellana," Cullen began, not sure what to say. 

 _We'll solve this, don't worry,_ he wanted to tell her, but he balked. She wasn't the type that needed platitudes. At this point, she wouldn't even understand them.

Feeling Ellana's gaze flick up to his face, he gave her the same, questioning thumbs-up gesture that she had given the others earlier.

_Are you okay?_

She shrugged in response and returned a half-hearted smile, waving her hand dismissively.

 _I'll be fine_ , her body language seemed to say, though the tightness around her eyes suggested otherwise.

Cullen just nodded, wanting to say more, but knowing it was useless. Seeing his awkward hesitation, Ellana shot him another small smile and held out her hand towards him, inviting him to link arms.

His heart gave a funny lurch at the invitation, but he did his best to quash the emotion as he always did. They were at war, he reminded himself. It was hardly the time to hope for... that sort of thing.

Stilling his expression, he placed the token down and walked around the table to take her arm for the third time that day. 

"Ar' ame daral dirasha Dorian masa", Ellana remarked to him, her dark eyes peering up at him as they began to walk towards the door together. As if to illustrate her words, she made a kicking motion and Cullen found himself huffing a laugh in return. For once, he didn't need a translator to determine what she had said.

_I'm going to kick Dorian's ass._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, this is so heavy-handed, but damnit if I don't love the idea of what's to come next. 
> 
> On that note, awkward flirting/NSFW content ahead.


End file.
